Brought Together (Patreon)

The party was an oasis and Clark tried to relax in it. Ever since Africa, he’d been buried in work, both for the Planet and… for the planet. He’d started delving into the Batman controversy, as well as been assigned a sports piece on Vic Stone. And then there were his difficulties with Lois. The Senate commission’s calls for his head. It all seemed like too much.

The gala was a breather, even with Lex giving a speech, working his last nerve. It had been over mercifully quick, though, and once again there was muted conversation, the professional rendition of arias by the orchestra, the smell of cologne and perfume and good champagne. It was a balm on his super-senses. He let it relax him.

If he weren’t so relaxed—if this were a busy street, with car radios, cell phone signals, and all the other electromagnetic detritus of the modern age in the air—then he would never have noticed the single, tight-beam signal. He had to strain his ears to decipher it, but made it out. Bruce Wayne, who he’d exchanged words with on the steps, talking with an older British man. Talking about the kind of clandestine work that a millionaire playboy should’ve had no interest in.

It made him wonder where the Bat got all those wonderful toys. An airplane, an armored tank, body armor, and various personal weapons… that wasn’t the arsenal of a lone psychopath. To say nothing of the training. It was a man with resources behind him.

But for a sponsor, Wayne seemed awfully willing to get his hands dirty. Since when did corporate moneybags, even vigilante ones, do their own grunt work?

Clark was so lost in thought, hitting the obvious conclusion and trying to argue himself out of it, like a good journalist, that he blundered directly into a woman. Even more surprising was how immovable she was. Him, the unstoppable force, was unseated.

He stumbled back, nearly slipping before regaining his balance with a little help of his flight—and was shocked to see the immovable woman he’d run into. She was thin, slender… well-toned, but not in any way suggestive of the kind of bruiser he’d expect would be able to drop him. And she looked radiant. Perhaps it had just been a while, since Lois had begun to have her troubles in processing Africa, but she struck his senses with even more force than had felled him.

Her fragrance was subtly overpowering, insinuating, unforgettable. Her gaze was piercing, forceful, but nonthreatening—there was a warmth behind it. And her body was—spectacular. Displayed to aplomb in her dress, while still modest enough to demand and reward the imagination. The fabric clung to her greedily, inviting hand and eye to do the same, and Clark was sorely tempted to despite the inappropriateness of the situation. Only around Lois, who he’d already entered into a relationship with, had he been so filled with lust.

“Mr. Kent,” she said warmly, her words dripping with a slight accent that enhanced her words’ power by accentuating them in the mind, rather than muddying their meaning. “I’m glad I caught you.”

“I’m Clark Kent,” he nodded. “Reporter for the—“

“Daily Planet, yes, I’m well aware. I was hoping to run into you. Not, perhaps, so literally…”

“Have we met?” Clark asked.

“I’m afraid not. But that is rather the point of these soirees, I find. Not so much to gratify the ego of some… precocious trust-funder, but to catch up with old friends. And find new ones.” She smiled at him. If the slight quirk of her lips in friendly greeting had been impressive, her full grin was downright awe-inspiring. “Your mouth is open, Mr. Kent. What is the Kansas saying? ‘You may catch flies’?”

Clark forced his mouth closed. “Something like that. I’m sorry, I haven’t caught your name.”

“Diana. And you are staring, Mr. Kent, but you don’t strike me as a philandering man. May I assume affairs with Ms. Lane are not in order?”

Clark blinked, feeling his jaw twitch. She knew him. In fact, the little warning bells of something sniffing around his secret, the sixth sense that had warned him so many times, was starting to ring. This was no chance encounter. This was someone who, however beautiful, posed a threat.

He responded diplomatically, though his mind whirled furiously. “Lois has been taking the events of Nairomi rather hard. Even for an experienced reporter, the things she saw there—they take their toll.”

“Of course,” Diana agreed. “Pass along my sympathies? It’s so important to shield the innocent from the brutality of the world, isn’t it? But also so hard…”

Clark nodded briefly. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

“Not recent experience, no. But I know what it’s like to try to protect someone and then feel as if you’ve failed.”

Clark chuckled uneasily. “Lois is a far more seasoned reporter than I am. I respect her far too much to have insisted on accompanying her to Nairomi, if she’d even have me along. I probably would’ve just made things worse.”

“I’m not speaking as you as a journalist, Mr. Kent. Kal.”

Clark lowered his voice, casting out with his senses. He couldn’t detect any hostiles in the area, sense any obvious traps, but he couldn’t afford any chances. “If you’re here to fight, we can take it outside. There’s no reason to involve all these people—“

“Great Hera, you are bloody-minded. If I had any intention of attacking you, I wouldn’t cloak my intent in games. I wish to talk.”

“Not here,” Clark said, still on guard.

“I agree. Follow, Kal.”

He let her lead him off to the side, away from the party and the scurrying busyness of the wait staff, into the darkened corridors of the manor house. A locked door fell open to her deft touch, and she led him up a sweeping spiral staircase, into a bedroom high on the fourth floor. A princess in a tower, Clark thought. Though he doubted she’d ever need any rescuing.

Clark took off her glasses. She’d shown him courtesy in her dealings, thus far at least, and he wanted to return the favor—show her he was willing to extend the hand of trust as far as she was. Diana looked on approvingly as he placed the glasses into his jacket pocket.

“You look better without them,” she said.

“No offense, Diana, but having someone I know nothing about coming up to me and voicing intimate details about my life isn’t the kind of thing that puts me at ease. You seem like a direct woman. Be direct.”

“It’s a long story, I’m afraid. And these shoes are not very comfortable.” Diana went to the four-poster bed, neatly made, its quilted comforter breaking up the textures of the darkened room. She sat. Her feet, surprisingly petite, slipped out of their heels. “I’m like you. I come from far away. I have power. I wish to use it to help those who can’t protect themselves.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but I haven’t noticed you around and I’ve been in a lot of places where people can’t protect themselves.”

“I make it a point to not be noticed. Because when you are, Kal… there are Senate hearings. Men, and women, who resent your power no matter how you wield it.”

“You sound cynical for a crusader.”

“I’m not a crusader, I’m a pragmatist. My home is far from here, but threats to this world will hurt it too. In part, I act out of enlightened self-interest.”

“Then what’s your interest in revealing yourself to me? Aren’t you worried I might ‘resent your power’?”

Diana smiled. “I’m neither worried you’ll resent my power or concerned with what you’d do if that were the case. But there is a threat that does concern me. Lex Luthor.”

“Luthor?” Clark asked. “He’s a preening jackass. You heard him down here. He could barely go three sentences without wetting himself.”

“He’s being used. As an advance agent for something outside.”

“Something?”

“A force. A threat. I don’t know what it is, exactly. But, like us, it is not of the Earth. It’s old, very old. Intelligent, enough to evade all my inquiries. And sinister. It’s given Luthor secrets. He knows who you are. He plots against you.”

Clark stood up straighter, fists tightening. “Lois…?”

“She’s safe. But you’re right, he will strike at you through those you love. It’s the obvious play.”

Clark forced himself to calm as his finger-bones grinded together. “I won’t let him.”

“He already provoked the situation in Nairomi. He’s setting others against you. Trying to turn us against each other.”

“’Us’?”

“Metahumans. Those with powers who are trying to help instead of destroy. Together, we could pose a threat to his master.”

Clark could believe it. But, more importantly, he could disbelieve it. First rule of journalism: consider the source. “And why should I believe you?” he asked, scrubbing at his face, remembering his glasses were off. “For all I know, Lex is just some dumb rich kid and you’re trying to turn me against him because the two of you had a bad date.”

Diana rose, taking the pins from her hair. It fell, long and dark, in straight bangs across her forehead. Most of it fell down the bare expanse of her back. One lock ran down under her throat to her cleavage. “Look me in the eyes, Kal. Do you think I’m deceiving you? Come now—cheap cynicism does us both a disservice.”

“Then assuming you’re right. I’m still not going to attack him on some baseless accusation.”

“I would never ask you to. But we can still ready for him. Present a united front and his schemes will falter.”

“As in…?”

“He’s not just setting others against you. He’s setting you against your own potential allies. The Batman.”

Clark’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a fascist thug.”

“He has lost his way, yes, but he’s not so far gone as to be beyond redemption. And he’s a good soldier. Better to give him a chance than to turn him into an enemy.”

“So you’re asking me to make friends with the Batman so I can fight a millionaire who is working for a demon.”

“And you’re an alien. And I’m an Amazon. Ridiculousness rarely excuses reality.”

“So far, all you’ve given me to go on is that you know my secret. Does that make you correct or me careless?”

Diana held out her arms. “Examine me with your vision. My muscle fibers, the consistency of my skeleton, the walls of my cells. Don’t I have the body of a goddess?”

After a moment, Clark chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it. And that doesn’t explain how you knew who I am.”

“As I said, I’ve been making my own investigation into Luthor. As is the Batman. I commandeered a device he planted to steal Luthor’s secrets.” She opened up her clutch and brought out a small computer, not much more than a Palm Pilot, but definitely not just a smartphone. “And one of Luthor’s secrets is yours.”

She held out the computer. Clark took it and looked.

If he weren’t with a lady, he would’ve sworn. Luthor had it, alright. Pictures, video. Clark swiped from one file to another. The first few were simple. Radar sightings, distant photographs, videos of what might be a bird or a plane. Then closer pictures. Satellite photography. Surveillance patterns of him flying in and out of the Daily Planet, of Kansas, even his apartment with Lois. If Lex had been fed information, he’d double-checked it thoroughly.

And more than that, he’d planted cameras, bugs. There was extensive documentation of his civilian life with Lois, his work at the Planet, his mother. Clark intently studied all of them. It was an effort of will not to smash the tiny computer in his hands. Luthor was most definitely a threat, a king disguised as a court jester. It made perfect sense that Diana’s ‘outside force’ would use him as a seemingly harmless agent to presage an attack.

“Alright,” Clark said, forcing calm again even as he relentlessly scanned through more and more of his invaded life. “That proves not to trust Luthor. But it doesn’t give me reason to trust you.”

“Trust isn’t easily built, Kal. It only comes with time. But we can still take the first step.”

“What do you mean?” Clark asked. It was hard to pay attention to her when he saw now, among Luthor’s recordings, images of Lois undressing. The bastard. But then there was the fact that her nudity was something he himself hadn’t seen in quite some time. He swiped left, trying to see something else, but it was just more of her, more of her body.

“Our powers are… comparable. Your bravery and compassion have drawn my attention. And I know my beauty has drawn yours. You want me to prove my willingness to be allied with you. Very well; we can show each other, in the plainest terms, how much there is to gain from a union. Lay with me.”

“What?” Clark asked. He stopped swiping the screen, but he must’ve triggered some kind of slideshow, because it kept going. Not just showing Lois, but showing him with Lois. Kissing her. Fondling her. Making love to her.

God, it had been so good.

“Here. In Luthor’s bed. We’ll defy him—show him what we think of his pitiful attempts to corral us. It will be glorious, Kal.”

He couldn’t stop looking at Lois. At the time, he’d been lost in her body—hadn’t noticed just how much she’d enjoyed herself. He hadn’t known how she’d screamed for more because he’d been too busy giving it to her.

Diana lowered her voice. “I want what Lois had. I want you.” Her long, slim legs carried her to him. Her slender, artful fingers reached down and began stroking him—finding all the right places to touch him. She knew from the way his pants bulged at the crotch that she was getting through to him, even before she had him in her hands.

“I think we both want the same thing,” Clark said slowly.

“And?” Diana prompted, her fingers lightly working over his crotch, feeling his immediate, his overwhelming response. All she had to do was pull down the zipper of his fly and there’d be so much of him.

“And I think you’re about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Those legs of yours, Christ—I can’t stop thinking about them. But… Lois…”

“There was no monogamy on Krypton, Kal. There isn’t any on Paradise Island either. Don’t just have her. Have me.”

He surged against her, his arms encircling her as he kissed her strongly. She was almost overpowered with the rush of his passion. She found her hands cupping his muscular ass, pulling at him to have the bulge of his groin pressed hotly into her body. He looked into her dark eyes, read what she wanted, then kissed her more. That was what she wanted: more.

But even Diana was hardly ready for such a quick response on Clark’s part. She’d underestimated her own appeal, thought that Clark would be like most men—slow to admit even to what he wanted. But Clark was no normal man. And when offered what he wanted, he took it readily.

She melted as his kiss crashed hard against her lips, his tongue insistently entering her slightly parted lips, prompting a moan from Diana as his tongue stroked hers. She clutched harder at his powerfully masculine body, the bulge of his loins growing and growing until she didn’t know how he could stand it. Her fingers slid down his smoothly muscled back, around the waist of his trousers, and her own flesh betrayed her as her fingers fumbled with his zipper. It actually took a few moments to run the zipper down its metallic track.

Clark broke the kiss off for a moment, and Diana found herself praying wordlessly to Aphrodite that he would not deny himself and call it virtue.

“Are you sure you want this?” Clark asked. “Because we don’t have to. Not if you don’t—“

“You have no idea how much I do,” Diana assured him, and they were kissing again. It was even better than before. She lifted her knee, wrapped her thigh around him, and his hand was eager to feel the smooth flesh she offered him.

“Those legs…” Clark muttered as their lips found other places to kiss, other places to pleasure. “Always was a sucker for a woman with legs like yours…”

“There are no women with legs like mine,” Diana assured him.

Her body churned with desire. She felt an awful hollowness in her sex, a need to be filled, and an awareness that only he would fit her. Beyond his zipper, she clutched him in her hand. Long and hard and hot to fuck, no preamble needed nor wanted. He was ready right now and Diana needed it even sooner.

“Take me, Kal. Take me right here.”

“I don’t think I can stop myself.” His fingers worked over her fabric-covered ass.

Diana grinned fiercely. “Don’t worry. I’d stop you, if it came to that.” He slowly inched the material up until his fingers rested on her naked ass. “But I have no intention of stopping you.”

“You don’t have any panties on,” Clark said, gob-smacked.

“Hoping to rip them off?” Diana asked obscenely. “Hurry, Kal. You’ve made me need this quite badly…”

He pulled up her dress even further, leaving it bunched around her waist, and his cock forced its way into the tightness of her sex. She shuddered at the entry of his cock, but wanted more of it, wanted him fucking her with long, powerful strokes. Just feeling it parting her labia was nice, but she needed more. She didn’t think she would ever stop needing more.

Clark spun her around, and this time she was the one who almost stumbled, caught off-guard by the suddenness of his move. She fell forward, catching herself on her hands. She was bent over the bed now. She’d wanted them to use it, ritualizing their opposition to Luthor’s antagonism, but she’d had no idea this would be how it was used.

Diana may have been an Amazon, but Clark had dated Lois Lane. And she had taught him much about what pleased her. What would please any woman.

“This is how I’m going to fuck you,” Clark explained calmly. He saw Diana’s muscles tense, responding to the firm, quiet strength of his words. Not aggressive. Not uncaring. Simply powerful. “I like seeing your legs while I’m fucking you. Feeling your ass. Having your cunt nice and wide for me.”

He moved in behind her, his rigid manhood aimed straight for her sex. She moaned as his cockhead ran down the entire length of her labia, hot and harder than ever. Then she was gasping, shifting her weight from one foot from the other, silently begging to be fucked. He’d entered her and it felt to Diana as if she’d climaxed already.

“Fuck, Kal, you’re so fucking biiiig!” she sobbed out.

“Was that in your files too?” he taunted her.

“Yes—but I had no idea… no idea…”

He held himself inside her, balls deep, as his hands stroked over the smooth curves of her ass. Fondling and feeling, pinching and caressing, until Diana was almost driven out of her mind. He stroked down the sides of her legs and she trembled like a leaf in strong wind. She’d planned to give herself to him. She hadn’t known how thoroughly he would take her.

The warrior woman had to put her forehead down on the bedspread, disarrayed as it was by their rigorous activity atop it. She felt as if she’d died and gone to the Elysium Fields—or as if the Elysium Fields were between her legs. Clark was better hung than even Steve Trevor, and he was fucking her in a way she’d never known before. It was like she was living out all her pent-up fantasies.

Diana had no wish for a weak man, a milksop who would capitulate to her every wish. She wanted a real man, one who knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid of telling her, any more than he was afraid of being told what she wanted. She knew from his responsiveness, from his silent care, that Clark was deeply concerned with pleasuring her. She would return the favor; not a milksop herself either.

She grinded her ass in small, intimate circles. His rigid prick quivered inside her, her juices anointing the insides of her legs. And then his hands stroked around to the insides of her thighs, strong, callused, a farmer’s hands as well as a warrior’s. He forced her legs apart until she thought he’d tear her in half, the wishbone of a chicken, but this only tightened the walls of her cunt on his huge manhood. She felt as if she were the sheath for a broadsword.

But no blade had ever been so warm, so pleasing, so virile. When she lifted one leg off the floor and curled it back around his waist, she thought she’d never be able to bear not having his cock buried in her boiling hot pussy.

“Goddamn, those fucking legs!” Clark barked. “I love them!”

“No!” Diana groaned. “My cunt! You need to focus on my cunt! Give it all you can! Show it you’re a man!”

Clark grunted in acknowledgment, then began slowly pulling his cock out. She thought it was to gradually reinsert himself into her sex. She was wrong. He pulled himself out until only the thick knob of his glans remained inside her, then he lunged—hard.

The bed was knocked across the floor, and Diana with it, slammed forward with the force of his entry. She reached out, her hands rending into the mattress, the bedsprings, and she clawed them into nothing as he sank inside her. And then, when he was buried to the hilt in her quivering cunt, he began rotating his hips.

This wasn’t any small movement, and this wasn’t a small cock. He rubbed his rigid length against every square inch of her hot cunt. Diana brought her fists down on the shredded mattress, shattering the bedframe beneath it with her pleasure. Deep within herself, beyond her pleasure, she could’ve almost smiled at the irony. She was telling Lex he was fucked, by being fucked herself.

Then Clark pulled out so fast that it took her breath away. After only a few thrusts, she was burning up inside. And the lewd sucking noise, as his rigid cock slurped out of her, pushed her desire to the breaking point. She almost came.

Almost.

“Kal! My love! More! Fuck me more! Fill me up inside with your sweet, sweet love. I need it so much!”

He grunted. She feared he would slow down, as her Amazon sisters often had. But he knew she could take it. He fucked her with long, powerful strokes that rattled her teeth. She was now lying facedown on the floor, mounted by Clark amidst the debris that had once been a bed. When she flung her hands out now, it was to drive her fingers into the hardwood floor, to crush it to splinters inside her grip.

The intensity of feelings in her hot cunt grew. The feel of his woolen pants against her bare ass turned her on. The wet sounds as he thrust into her juicy sex turned her on. And most of all, being on the receiving end of a real man’s need turned her on.

Diana came as hard as she ever had.

And Clark didn’t stop fucking her then, either. If anything, he doubled his efforts. His fingers tightened like a steel vise on her waist and he pulled her ass to his crotch with every pistoning stroke. When Diana realized what he was doing, she rammed her ass back at him to add even more power to the fuck. She heard the floorboard cracking under their bodies.

“So damn tight,” Clark husked. She felt sweat dripping off him and onto her. In all her immortal life, she’d never felt this aroused by a man. But Clark wasn’t a man. He was a god. “So damn tight around my cock. Know why I love legs like yours? Because every woman with legs like yours has a tight little cunt to fuck.”

Diana came again. It was always the quiet ones, she thought. The farmboys. Nothing to compensate with, so they didn’t have anything to compensate for.

And as her cunt convulsed around his member, she felt him changing the rhythm. Losing control. He was going to come.

“Don’t you stop!” she cried out.

He fucked faster. Friction electrified all of her cunt. Then his cock jerked hard, fountained out liquid flame. At his first burning touch inside her, she was soaring. Getting off on the very satisfaction he took in her, the massive load he was jetting inside her.

And still he fucked her. Diana laughed. She’d been fucked right through the floorboards. Below her, she could see the plaster of the ceiling below.

She wondered if they’d stop before they reached the foundation.

***

Bruce Wayne stepped out of the gala, struggling to catch sight of the brunette in the red dress. She’d obviously been the one to take the modem; his gut was too fine-tuned not to be right on this. But she’d absolutely vanished on him, somewhere in the swirl of party-goers and tax write-offs. A disappearing act. He hated when anyone did that better to him.

The valet saw him, gestured in acknowledgment, and went to get his car. Bruce was about to cancel it out, when a smoothly feminine arm wrapped around his, a body pressed to his body, a voice sounded in his ear.

“C’mon, Brucie. This party’s deathly dull. Aren’t you going to show me Gotham?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied automatically.

“Good. Because I—and my boss—would really like to know what you’re doing to kill Superman. He could destroy everything, you know. If he wanted.”

“He could,” Bruce agreed, though at the moment, all he could think of was the woman’s pretty little head leaned against his sternum, her hair all he could see as he looked down at her.

He was seeing red.